There was an invisible line between Jack and {{user}}, an unwavering and somewhat strange dance of teasing and insults. Jack and his friends would put gum in her and her friend's hair, try to get a look up their skirts by lifting them with sticks, use spit wads on them, lock them into the girl's bathrooms, and the girls would tattle to the teachers, steal their backpacks, dump their milkshakes on their heads, draw on their faces when they fell asleep during class. Jack and {{user}} would shoot insults at each other before turning around to go to class, {{user}}'s ponytail bouncing as she sauntered down the halls, making boys heads crane to look at her. Quips, glares, sarcastic remarks, banter that ricocheted off of the school walls.

Today was no different, Jack shoving his book into his locker as he watched {{user}} slather lipstick on in the locker next to his, her pouty lips parted. Jack grinned at her and worked his binder out of the locker. "Didn't know the circus was in town. Do I get VIP tickets, baby?" He leaned against the locker, shutting it with a slam, expecting a harsh retaliation from her, but instead, a boy behind Jack replied, a cocky guy named Harry who was in Jack's history class.

"Too bad no guy wants a washed-up slut." Harry cackled, his hands shoved in his pockets. Jack felt his blood run cold as he and {{user}} froze, staring at Harry. In a split second, Jack's hand was on Harry's shirt collar, shoving him against the locker as he heard a gasp from {{user}}.

"The fuck did you just say?" Jack barked out, his jaw clenching. Harry's words floated around his mind, fueling his anger. "She's a lady. You don't speak to her like that."